Trusting the Impossible
by Iona Nineve
Summary: When Henry reveals his secret Jo doesn't take it so well. What will it take for her to trust his impossible story?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

 **AN: This was an idea that I just had to fiddle with. Your reviews would be much appreciated.**

 **Warning: Mentions of suicide basically throughout the first few chapters.**

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"It's a long story." Henry allowed her into the shop.

"Isn't everything with you?" She asked as she entered, and Henry couldn't help a small smile while Abe restrained a laugh to a mere snicker.

"Why don't we go upstairs, it's more comfortable."

"Alright." Jo went up the stairs first followed by Henry, who had paused a moment to share a directing look with Abe. As they reached the second floor Abe was making his way down to the basement to retrieve artifacts that might prove useful. "So what's this long story?" She asked, sitting down on the couch.

Henry remained standing, having grown fidgety upon arriving upstairs. As he paced behind his chair he pondered how he was going to explain himself. Now that he was here, faced with her curious and demanding gaze he couldn't bring forth a single word. Over the years there were very few people he had trusted, and fewer that he'd trusted with this impossible life's story. Of course he trusted Jo, more so than he had anyone in decades. But the past still crept into his head and pointed out the similarities in this situation to Nora's demands to be confided in.

Jo sat waiting and watching Henry pace, as he grew more and more nervous. Whatever he was hiding was difficult for him to let out. What could the Pandora's box of his heart possibly be holding? This man in front of her was still very much a mystery to her, whatever small victories she had had in piercing his shield. He finally stopped and sat down in the chair near where she sat. Henry looked her in the eye, she caught sight of the haunted fear in his gaze, a gaze normally a deep pool was now a dark abyss.

"I suppose I'll start at the beginning. But let me begin with this, I'm immortal. I was born on September 19th, 1779. When I die I reawaken in water-"

Jo couldn't stop the short laugh that escaped her. "And do you die often?" She asked, playing along.

At her tone he felt his heart plummet. "You don't believe me."

"Maybe I would if you told me truth, not this insane story."

"This insane story, as you call it, _is_ the truth!" His voice was as close to a shout as she'd ever heard it.

"Do you really believe that?" She asked quietly, concern growing along with her fear of the man in front of her.

"I don't have to believe it, I live it."

"You're insane, Henry. You're sick." It pained her to say. Henry had always seemed so stalwart, like nothing could unbalance him. But recently, his behavior had been so odd and now this.

"Jo." He pleaded piteously, reaching out to her.

She recoiled from him, turning away. "No. Stay away from me." Jo was afraid, truly afraid of this man for the first time. She felt his pained, pleading gaze bore into her and she couldn't stand it any longer. "I can't. I can't." She fled, covering her face as tears that she didn't understand fell. Rushing through the shop she vaguely registered brushing past Abe who was carrying a box. She didn't stop running away until she'd parked in front of her home and shut the door behind her. What had happened to cause this change in Henry? Or had he always been like this, and she'd never noticed? Henry was the impossible man who had understood her perfectly, now she knew just how impossible such a man was. This was what had become of the man that not long ago she had almost told that she- no, she couldn't think about that now. It was like losing him, and tears came a fresh.

Abe, after watching as Jo raced from the shop, set the box down and made his way upstairs. There he found Henry standing stalk still, looking utterly devastated. "What happened? Jo jus-"

"I'll be in my laboratory." Henry announced, voice tight, making his own quick escape.

"Yeah." Abe said to himself, watching his father descend the steps. Going into the kitchen he put on a pot of tea, which he brought down to the dark basement. Henry was sitting at his desk, elbows on table and head in hands as though trying to hold himself together. "So, I guess it didn't go so great."

"One would think I was Frankenstein's monster by her reaction."

"How far did you get?"

"You mean before she called me insane and recoiled from me as though I were dangerous? Not far."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know, Abraham!" He snapped. Abe knew that his father was worried about the outcome of the encounter, there had been some not so hope inspiring cases before, but it didn't stop him from being taken aback by this tone. "I'm sorry, Abe. I suppose I go to work as though it were before I'd met her, seeing as I doubt she'd want anything more to do with me. I just wish- I thought sh-... Could I be alone for awhile?"

"Yeah." Abe allowed, getting up from the seat he'd taken. "I won't be picking you up tonight, right?" He'd said it almost in jest but out of genuine concern.

"Not tonight." Henry gave his son a weak smile that didn't reach further than his mouth.

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 **So what do you think? Next chapter we find out how Jo reacts.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I still don't own anything, and if this is what I do to these characters perhaps that's a good thing.**

 **Thank you for the reviews, follows, and favorites I have gotten already. I will be on vacation this weekend so I'll have the next update for you all on Monday. In the mean time here's this chapter. Please tell me what you think of this chapter.**

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The next morning Jo and Henry made their ways to work as though nothing had happened the previous night, well almost. Henry hadn't come up and Jo wasn't about to go down.

In fact she was trying everything in her power not to think about the ME working below. In that effort she had been studiously at work on the paperwork from any case not involving him, however she was quickly running out of cases.

Any and all progress she had made disintegrated after lunch when Hanson, very bored without a murder to investigate, began talking about something other than the evils of paperwork. "Nothing from Henry? I'm surprised he hasn't come running up here with a murder for us." Then, putting on a horrible attempt at Henry's accent, he added. "This man's been murdered." Hanson waited, grinning and expecting a laugh.

She didn't even smile, she couldn't. "No, Nothing." The answer to his question came short. Her annoyance with her partner was rising for ruining her endeavor.

"He's here today, isn't he?"

"I'd imagine so."

Hanson found this all very suspicious, something had changed and it didn't bode well. "Did something happen between you two or something?"

"No. What makes you think that?"

"Well, you usually go down first thing in the morning."

"We're not working with Henry anymore." She admitted.

This statement came as a surprise, it had taken awhile but Henry had grown on him, and they'd been doing so well lately. "Is that on the Lieu's orders?"

"No."

"Then why ain't we working with the doc?"

Jo leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice. "He's crazy, Hanson."

"Of course he is. He's the weirdest, creepiest, most unusual person you've ever met; remember? That's why he's so infuriatingly good at whatever is it he does. So if something's up, you need to get it straightened out. I don't know how we solved anything without him."

Hanson was right, she couldn't keep this up much longer. Perhaps Henry had always been odd, but he'd been different lately. He was lost and she had to get her Henry back. "Yeah ok." She reached for her cell phone and went out to the hall for some privacy. Hanson was left feeling victorious.

Down in the morgue the day was not so slow as upstairs. Though nothing had yet come up that would be of interest to the detectives, for which Henry was quite thankful. The assistant ME, however, was not so content with the number of uninteresting deaths. "Another accidental death. That makes three, plus the five natural causes." Lucas stated as they closed up another body.

"I'm sure your disappointment concerning the lack of homicide is shared by the detectives. They at least have good reason." Henry said, making it quite clear that his assistant did not.

"Speaking of detectives, I didn't see Detective Martinez come down this morning." Lucas noted, seeing the opportunity to mention the oddity.

"She didn't."

"That's weird. Don't you think that was weird, doc?"

"Lucas." Henry warned, stopping him from rambling. "Would you please bring us our next guest?"

Lucas checked the list. "That was the last one."

"Very well. Then I shall be in my office." He announced, removing his gloves. "If you would be so kind as to clean up."

"Yeah, sure." Hey doc, is something wrong? You seem kinda down."

"I assure you, I am quite fine." He then continued into his office.

After cleaning up and putting everything away, Lucas settled down in a chair with a graphic novel and waited for another body to arrive or something else to happen. After a few hours he was struck, suddenly, that Henry's behavior was odd yet familiar. Recently he had felt as though he had been getting closer to his boss, he fondly remembered Henry's praise from the day before, but today was like the last year had never happened and he was back where he started. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door of the morgue. For a second he was hopeful that it was Detective Martinez, who might know something about this regression. When he looked, however, he saw two men in light-grey suits on the other side of the glass. He opened the door enough to speak but not enough to allow them in; a skill learned after a few years of keeping families, or anyone else, out of the morgue.

"Can I help you?" Lucas asked the men.

"We're here to see Dr. Morgan." Said the taller of the two.

"Ok. I'll get him." Closing the heavy glass door Lucas crossed the room and opened the office door. "Hey Henry." The ME looked up from the paperwork with an expectant gaze at his assistant. "There are these guys outside to see you. They're all suited up, stiff, and professional looking, and they've got those creepy sympathetic looks going."

Standing up from his desk, Henry absentmindedly straightened his suit. Reentering the morgue he made his own way across to the door, Lucas following close behind. "I'm sure they're not half as terrifying as you make them sound." It was his turn to greet the grey clad pair. "How may I be of service to you gentlemen?"

"Doctor Henry Morgan?" The taller again spoke in response.

"Yes." Henry confirmed.

"Please, if you'd come with us." The shorter of them directed in a soft, calm tone.

"Yes, of course." Henry joined them in the hall. "Where exactly are we going?"

"If you would, sir." Again the short one spoke in that voice, this time taking hold of his arm.

Wrenching himself free of the man's loose grip, Henry asked again somewhat less politely. "Pardon, but I asked where we're going?"

"Sir, please do not resist." The tall one warned, his voice now lowered to gentle tones, placing a hand firmly but not threateningly upon Henry's shoulder.

It was then that Henry caught sight of the car parked directly outside the door, and the writing on its side. "No. no." He began stepping backward. Turning to see where he wished to go, he saw Jo in conversation over a clipboard with another man in grey. "Jo?" He asked, the betrayal he felt unconcealed in his voice. She opened her mouth as though to speak but closed it tight without a sound in response. "I trusted you." The two men, fearing his reaction he supposed, took hold of his arms and guided with force backwards toward the doors. "I trusted you!" Henry's agonized cry came to her from down the tile-walled hallway, she looked down unable to meet his pleading and accusatory eyes.

That evening in the shop Abe waited for Henry to get home, which he should have done half an hour earlier. This uncharacteristic tardiness was beginning to worry him, after all the last time Henry was late he'd been abducted by a crazy murderer. So after another fifteen minutes he called Jo.

"Hi Abe." Jo greeted, a tinge of guilt reaching her voice.

"Hey Jo, have you seen Henry? He hasn't come home yet and he usually lets me know when he's gonna be out late."

"Umm… Abe, listen. It was for his own good, I had to do it."

This admission did nothing to calm his anxiety for his father. "Do what? Jo, where's Henry?"

"They took him to Bellevue a few hours ago." Her wording did not suggest that it was merely for a therapist session.

"You did what! Do you have any idea what you've done!" Abe felt a temper rising; he'd had liked Jo, he had even taken to prompting Henry's trust of her and this was what come from it.

"I'm sorry, Abe, really. But-" He hung up the phone, cutting whatever explanation she could give in her defense.


	3. Chapter 3

**I still don't own anything.**

 **I had exactly zero time to write this weekend except in the car, so not much happens this chapter. So you all get a lead up chapter, prepare for angst feels and such tomorrow though. Thank you for the support I've gotten from all the reviews favorites and follows, please keep it up. I would love to hear what you think.**

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Once in the car he settled, the emotions of what just passed still coursing through his veins. Blessedly a straight jacket had not been involved, this lack of incapacitation allowed his ragged nerves outlet in fidgety hands as the city passed by on the other side of the glass.

Henry stepped out of the car to be greeted by the aedifice of Bellevue. He was determined, after his disgraceful display at the precinct, to face this doom ahead of him. Being walked like a condemned man to the noose into the building did nothing to bring hope to the situation. The solemn trio made their way down the hall and into a small room on the right.

It was similar in size and arrangement to that which had been the scene of his solitary therapy session, and after how that had turned out he was not eager for another. One major difference between the rooms was the decor; this room could hardly be more bare, undecorated grey walls, two chairs, a desk, and a filing cabinet. As of yet he hadn't seen any other color in use, the mind numbing color was broken when a man in a black suit entered and dismissed the men in grey, accepting from them the clipboard.

"Please sit down Dr. Morgan." Henry paused a moment, as though checking that there were indeed no shackles connected to the chair, before taking his seat. The man also sat down, and began exactly where the doctor wished he wouldn't. "Do you believe yourself to be immortal?"

"No." Henry replied as calmly as he could manage. He knew this type of man, he thought what he thought and no amount of reason would convince him otherwise. With such men it was best to respond in a single word. This brevity also allowed him to suppress the panic that threatened to rise and engulf him.

"But you told Detective Martinez of such a belief." The man, whom Henry suppose held a doctorate in psychiatry, spoke in a delicate tone as though to a temperamental child. Henry gave no reply, but looked steadily at the opposite wall. "Very well, let's move on to your record of indecent exposure. Care to explain?"

"Somnambulism." He stated, sticking to the explanation he had given the lieutenant.

"And you sleep..."

"Naked."

Once again the psychiatrist was forced to change the subject. "You are chief medical examiner?"

"Yes."

"Previously a gravedigger?"

"Yes."

"You, Dr. Morgan, have somewhat of a preoccupation with death, do you not?" The patronizing tone had persisted through this interview. Henry was nearly certain that if either the man's tone or the conversation did not soon end he indeed might well go mad.

"Not an unhealthy one."

The man in black jumped on this lengthened reply. "Have any of your family members died?"

"Nearly all."

"The file from your previous visit mentions a lack of friends, and difficulties with trust. How many people do you trust?" Henry's fidgeting, which had minimized, returned at the mention of this unknowing encounter with Adam.

"One."

"Why is that?" Henry once again responded with silence, sitting there staring the man down. He gave up waiting for an answer and merely wrote on his clipboard. When he ha finished he got up, opened the door and left. The man in black having left, the grey men reentered almost immediately, one holding the thickening clipboard. Henry was then brought down the hall a short distance to a small room.

There he was taken charge of by a kind faced black woman of about 60, and the two men in grey left him. She wore scrubs of Easter yellow, adding a cheery splash of color to the dull environment. "So what's your name, Hon?" She asked, ignoring the clipboard that had passed from Jo through men in grey and black to her.

"Doctor Henry Morgan."

"I'm Nurse Ruth."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

"Well Henry, let's get you taken care of." She said, asserting their relationship as an informal one. His chest constricted with a fearful apprehension at the phrase. It must have shown, because she looked at him comfortingly. "Don't worry. There ain't anything to worry about." She placed a hand on his back and led him behind the partitioning wall. One wall was filled with drawers, each with a named label. "I have to ask you to remove your jacket, tie, vest, and belt." She instructed waiting patiently, as he did as directed, with a box to receive the articles of clothing. When he stood, stripped of his layers, in only his shirt and trousers she replaced the box in its place, now bearing his name.

Ruth had seen hundreds of people enter her domain, the doctors may know the minds but she knew the people those minds were attached to. This man, standing humbled like she'd just taken away the only security he had, was different from the other entrants. Sure he was nervous, frightened even, but seemed more sane than most in her opinion. Of course the doctors would say that the madness often lay beneath.

Next they passed through the door leading further into the belly of the beast, his anxiety beginning to rise unwanted. As she escorted the increasingly downcast man down the door lined hall he eyed each door warily, wondering which held a padded room behind it.

"Which is the padded room?" He asked, after working up the courage to do so.

She let out a short warm and hearty laugh. "You've heard too many horror stories." She said, responding to the hint of fear that had escaped into his voice. "We don't use those anymore, well except when absolutely necessary for safety." This was not particularly reassuring but it would have to do. They came to a closet, at which she paused and removed a pair of white cotton pajamas. Then they proceeded down the hall to a room, opening the door again she ushered him in. "This is your room, number 31. There's your bed, and here are pajamas for you." He accepted the folded bundle. "I'll let you be to settle in, you're probably tired from the day."

Ruth left the room and closed the door behind her. Alone now Henry realized just how tired he was, that afternoon seemed to belong to another world not a few hours before. He changed quickly and lay down on the bed. Closing his eyes he tried to reject the reality of his circumstances as sleep fell over him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Nope, still don't own any of these wonderful characters.**

 **I decided to cut this chapter into two parts, it was supposed to cover the entire day but I couldn't write all that in one day. So in this chapter we have the shock wearing off, a visit, and we meet some of the personalities at Bellevue. I suppose the end is just some comic relief because this is a pretty depressing chapter.**

 **Wow, so many follows, thank you for the reviews too! You guys are great, it's so motivating. Please let me know what you think of this chapter.**

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The next morning, terror gripped Henry when he found himself in unfamiliar surroundings and momentarily unable to recall why he was there. When he did recall where he was and why it brought little comfort, in fact carried only dread and pangs of betrayal. He'd lost Jo, along with any hope of returning to that life which he had grown to love. Pulling himself from the edge of a very deep and dark pit in his mind, he absorbed his surroundings accepting their reality. He had questioned for one hopeful moment whether the events of the day before had not been a nightmare, the grey truth had soon asserted itself.

In the other bed another man still slept. On one side of the room a door led to a simple bathroom. Taking what remained of his clothes from where he had left them, he went to change and wash. Returning he found the man still asleep. The door to the hall stood on the other wall, he moved to open it, to leave this room. It was locked, he had not wholly expected it to be open but this ran home the fact that he was locked in this room, trapped here. The fact staggered him, bringing up the panic that had been repressed the day prior. He stood there desperately trying the door again and again, after continued failure he was resigned to his entrapment.

On his bed, curled up in the protective posture of a frightened child, fearful tears ran silently down Henry's face as he struggled to kept himself grounded in the present, away from memories of shackles and damp cells.

It was two hours before someone came to the door and opened it. Ruth entered and moved to wake the man sleeping soundly and with a great amount of noise.

"Greg, wake up." She called, shaking his shoulder gently. He woke up immediately at the sound of her voice. Once awake he got up, took the clothes she had placed on his bed and went into the bathroom. Greg's snores silenced the sound of intermittent quiet whimpers from the other bed daughter he ear. The new man's presence had slipped her mind. She saw the calm man from the day before was now curled into a shivering ball. Sitting down on his bed she reached out to place a comforting hand on his arm, he flinched at her touch. "Henry." He looked up, his gaze flickering from her face to the open door until understanding came to his mind. "It's alright." Henry took a deep shuddering breath, releasing it with a weak crooked smile. Relaxing his posture he steadied his breathing and ran his hands over his face. "You okay?"

"Yes." He continued to look at the open door. "Just some old insecurities." Having observed this transformation, Ruth was struck by the man's control of his emotions.

The door of the bathroom opened and Greg walked out he waved at Ruth, who returned it, and seeing his new roommate came to stand infront of where Henry sat to offer his hand for a shake. "Henry this is Greg. Greg, Henry." Henry accepted Greg's hand. "Greg doesn't talk." Greg then left the room.

Henry watches him go. "May I?" He asked, gesturing towards the door.

"Yeah. There's a lounge at the end of the hall."

"Thank you, Ruth." Henry said before taking his grateful leave of the room, leaving her wondering just what he had thanked her for. She left that question unanswered and continued her duties for the morning.

Jo arrived to work late and tired, having slept horribly that night. Before going up to her desk she was going to stop by the morgue to check with Henry. She stopped just before reaching the door, remembering through a sleep deprived fog what she had done. At her desk she continued paperwork, no calls having come yet.

"Lucas called, nothing suspicious down in the morgue. Kid sounds disappointed. I understand, two days with no murders, I'm getting cabin fever." Hanson said approaching her desk.

"And he's got all those bodies down there, none with homicide related causes of death." She added to Hanson's moop.

"Poor kid." Jo gave Hanson a questioning look. "He's there by himself. He hero-worshipped Henry, after yesterday Lucas has gotta be questioning everything."

Guilt again panged in Jo's chest, however right she thought what she'd done was, she was responsible. Henry's face as he was taken away hung in her mind. "I'm going to be gone for a few hours, call me if anything comes up." She left the precinct and drove through the city traffic to Bellevue. Inside the psychiatric ward entrance there was a reception desk manned by a young woman. "I'm here to see a patient."

"I'm sorry, no visitors until visiting hours at one o'clock."

"NYPD." Jo flashed her badge, only slightly regretting the improper use.

"Patient's name?"

"Henry Morgan."

"Third floor, ask for the patient administrator."

"Thanks." Jo took the elevator to the specified floor. "Detective Martinez NYPD. I want to see Henry Morgan." She announced to the man at the front desk. "First I would like to talk to his doctor."

The man told her to wait while he got the doctor in question. She sat impatiently for a few minutes until the back door opened. "Detective Martinez. I'm Doctor Jacobson. You're here about Dr. Morgan."

"How is he?"

"I had a diagnostic session with him yesterday. I concluded that he has mild schizophrenia, causing paranoia and delusions, paired with moderate chronic depression. Paranoia brings about his trust issues and secretiveness."

"Schizophrenia, isn't that hereditary?"

"Yes. It would have been lurking his entire life, parts such as paranoia probably were present most of his life. It escalated recently. Was there some traumatic event that may have triggered it?"

"Around Christmas he killed a home invader who had been stalking him."

"That would do it. A stalker would also explain the somnambulism, his paranoia would have caused a sub-conscience flight instinct activating while he slept."

"I'd like to see him now."

"Of course." He opened the door from which he had come and looked down the hall. "Ruth." A somewhat elderly woman wearing a bright pink set of scrubs came into the room with them. "Detective Martinez is here to see Henry Morgan."

"Come with me." The woman said welcomingly and led her down a hall to a door marked 'Patient Lounge'. Entering the blue walled room, Jo followed as Ruth went over to where a familiar back sat observing the view out the window. "Henry, you have a visitor."

Henry perked up at the news and turned hopefully. "Ab-" When he saw her the greeting died on his lips and he turned back to the window. Yesterday's feelings of betrayal returned, now tinged with anger toward the woman.

"Henry. Henry, please." He didn't look at her, refusing to reply in anyway. "I'm sorry. But it was for your own good."

"Detective Martinez, would you be so kind as to leave." He kept his voice calm, empty of the anger he felt, with audible effort.

"Henry-"

"Leave me alone! Haven't you done enough?" His voice, dangerously low as to avoid yelling, trembled with hurt and anger.

"Miss, I think you should go." Ruth advised, quietly. Jo, feeling her throat tighten at Henry's obvious hatred for her, just nodded and made her way out alone. Ruth stayed a moment to make sure that he wasn't about to explode, but soon returned to her nearby desk.

Jo returned to her car and simply sat there, unable to start the car and leave for several minutes, a few tears slipped past her defenses. She had managed to ruin one of her greatest friendships, and by Henry's treatment of her she doubted she would ever regain it. The tears of sadness soon gave way to those of anger. Why couldn't he understand why she had done it? He was brilliant after all, so he should understand. After reigning herself in she returned to the precinct and buried herself in work. Hanson left her be, he knew where she had gone and that it apparently didn't go well.

Henry took several deep calming breaths then tried to take his mind off the encounter with observation of his surroundings. The room was painted light blue with several large windows. It reminded him of the convalescence room in a tuberculosis sanitarium, which brought mournful but not terror-filled memories. People, other patients, roamed or sat about. On one corner was a piano which looked mostly untouched. Sitting opposite each other two men were conversing in increasing volume.

"Britain shall never fall to any power!"

"It shall to me! The French Empire is more powerful than your puny island."

"That island has beaten France in near every war she has taken up against her!"

"France was not then led by me, I am the equal of Julius Caesar!"

"You are no more than a tyrant!"

"And you are but a washed up British dog!" Henry's eavesdropping was rewarding with something of interest. He knew who these men thought they were, the famed enemies Bonaparte and Nelson. Henry remembered the war against Napoleon, and he had now had before him embodiments of these idols of his early life.

"Pardon gentlemen, I have a query about Aboukir Bay-"

At the name of the battle they launched into heated debate, to which he listened with interest. When, after some time, the pair reached a fevered pitch of bitterness they were interrupted by Ruth. "Now settle, you two. It's 1802 and you're at peace for now so act like it." It was a curiosity, the sight of men so certain of their identities as men famous the world over being chastised like schoolboys. He was also impressed by Ruth's expert use of research to end the quarrel. The men of war shook hands with great magnanimity.

"Good. Now everyone, it's time for lunch." The room emptied at varying speeds, people filtering through a double door into a larger room. After lunch he, along the majority of the others returned to the blue room.


	5. Chapter 5

**This is an eventful day at Bellevue, its going to span three chapters and here's the second. Warning lots of mentions of suicide. Thank you everyone for staying with this and the reviews, you've been great readers! So please keep it up and let me know what you think.**

 **I own absolutely nothing.**

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Abe had heard his father mention, sometimes in partial jest, his experiences in asylums for much of his life. Now, as he drove purposefully toward Bellevue, he thought of everything Henry had said and prayed that it was not as it used to be. He would've gone to see Henry earlier but when he had called, after hanging up on Jo, he had been rebuffed a told firmly that no visitors were permitted before one in the afternoon.

With a bag of clothes in one hand and a book in the other he made his way into the place. After a bag check, during which anything but shirts and pants were removed from the supply and set aside, he arrived as directed at the third floor. After addressing the young man at the desk, he had to wait only a minute before a woman, introducing herself as Ruth, came to meet him. As she walked him down the hall she asked his relationship to Henry.

"I'm a friend of the family. I'm the closest he's got to family. How is he?" The question came out with more concern than he had meant.

"He seemed to be rather shaken this morning but he's remarkably in control of himself."

"Yeah he is."

"I'll take those things to his room." She offered.

He gave her the bag but held onto the book. "Umm.. I'd like to give him the book myself if I can."

"Absolutely." She affirmed, opening the door to the room. "Go 'head in." When family, or close to it, visited she preferred to give them some privacy, keeping an eye on the proceedings from her desk on the other side of an interior window.

Abe immediately found where his father sat inspecting the sunlit room. "Hey Henry."

"Abe." Henry stood to face his son. He could have hugged him but settled for simply holding onto his arms. "Thank God. It's good to see you."

"Are you ok?"

"I'm alright. No injury, no chains, no hydrotherapy." His assurances came with a tone suggesting an unstated 'yet'.

"The nurse said something about this morning?" Abe asked, gently and with more concern than he had felt when she had mentioned it.

Henry sagged visibly at the question. "Abe, I completely broke down because a door was locked." He was rather embarrassed to admit this to Abe.

Abe whistled very low. "Geez." The somewhat embarrassing reaction revealed something Abe had never really considered about his father. How traumatic must Henry's experiences of prior asylums have been that such a small reminder as a locked door could affect him so? What he had been told of padded rooms and awful therapies was not the entirety of the horrors faced by a lonely, betrayed, and very confused Henry. "We have to get you out of here. I'll talk to Jo and-"

"No!" Henry cut him off. "I'll find some way to get out, I have before. Just give me some time. But I don't want you going to Jo, under any circumstances. Do you understand?" He nodded. "I don't want you to be-" Henry's voice cut out, throat tightened by the thought. Abe recognised Henry's tone from when he'd received his draft notice, a father not wanting a son to suffer as he had. He realized that Henry was afraid that if he went to Jo for help he would wind up in here as well.

"I get it, pops. I won't." He whispered the reply in case anyone might overhear. Henry smiled slightly, comforted by the title. "I brought you some fresh clothes, they're in your room, and I brought this." He handed him the book.

"Jane Eyre?" Henry asked figuring the title on the spine.

"Yeah, I don't remember much of the plot except for a crazy wife in the attic, so I thought it was fitting." A genuine laugh of amusement escaped Henry. "There's more, open to the back cover." He directed. Henry did so and found there the photo of Abigail from his desk. "I figured a frame wouldn't be allowed so I just brought the photo."

"Thank you, Abraham." This time he relented to the urge to hug Abe, letting go soon after to maintain the little composure he had.

"You gonna be ok?" Henry's uncharacteristic display of affection and emotion made Abe worry slightly about him staying here much longer.

"Yes. For long enough to get out of here, at any rate."

"When do you want me to come back?"

"A few days, four, if I haven't seen you first. And you, you'll be alright?"

"I think I'm old enough to take care myself for a few days. I'll see you."

"Good bye, Abe. I love you." He whispered the farewell.

"Love you too." They parted and Abe made his way to the exit. He met with the nurse in the hall. "Take care of him." He requested of the seemingly kind nurse.

"That's what we do." She assured warmly. She had watched the interaction of the two men, a close relationship obviously but of a hard to discern kind.

Henry took up his seat once more and opened the book to Abigail's picture. He had a suspicion that Abe recalled more of the plot than he had let on. Lord Rochester's first marriage haunted him and brought ruin to his life, and nearly destroyed his second chance at love; but Jane had come into his life and rejuvenated it, as Abigail had his own. So he had put her picture in the back, where the happy ending lay.

He had to find a way out of this place. His options were limited by the institution's close watch of dangerous objects. Though extraneous clothes had been taken he had a sheet, but no rafter offered a height from which to fall. There was a pillow, if it were applied with pressure he could smother himself; a very difficult form of suicide as a powerful panic set in and once consciousness was lost as was the pressure. There was the possibility of starving himself, it would take days and would certainly be noticed; he wondered whether they still performed forced feedings in cases of hunger strikes.

The call to the medication window offered him the best option of escape by suicide. It would not be difficult to save enough drugs to overdose, only taking a few days. Use of medication to control maladies of the mind had been a recent development during his last incarceration, surely it would have become a common practice by now. He went to the queue building at the window. As he slowly came closer he noticed certain signs displayed by the young man behind the counter that suggested an addiction to one or more of the various drugs stocked behind him. This was beneficial for Henry's plan, the man's observation ability would be impaired and it was thus less likely that his unpracticed deception would be noticed. His turn at the window came and he accepted the small paper cup of antipsychotics, he placed it in his mouth but did not swallow. Once he turned away he spat out the two pills and placed them in his pocket, awaiting an opportunity to find a better hiding place.


	6. Chapter 6

**I still don't own anything.**

 **Thanks everyone for staying with this story! Sorry about the late posting, I had an uncooperative muse. Because of this tomorrow's chapter is probably going to be not as early as usual. So in this chapter we have some secondary character building, Henry making a friend, and not making a friend; it's sort of a filler chapter, but I hope you enjoy it. Reviews may hasten my muse in bringing the next chapter, so if you have thoughts to share I'd appreciate them.**

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An hour later Ruth came over to inform him that he had a therapy session to attend. She led him through another hallway to a room where he was left to await his therapist. Its furnishings were plush in neutral colors with an oversized wooden desk, very few personal items were to be found. After a few slow minutes passed an over-worked looking woman entered.

"Hello, Dr. Morgan. I'm Anne." Henry nodded in return. "How are you doing today?" He did not answer. Nothing good had ever come of him engaging in conversation with a therapist or psychiatrist, he was not about to repeat that mistake. "Not one for small talk I see. Alright, let's get to why we're here then. "Do you understand why you were sent here?" It is true that silence was not a gift he was given but it was a tool he knew how to use and could quite deftly when he wanted to. "How do you feel toward Detective Martinez for her actions?" Henry continued his silence. Clasping his hands in his lap he prepared for a long face off. "Dr. Morgan, please cooperate. Is there anything that you would like to talk about? Family, perhaps? I understand you've lost most of your family." For the remainder of the hour session he sat in unbending silence watching in concealed amusement as she grew more frustrated. At the end of the hour she set down the clipboard, that had waited for a response on her lap. "Well, Dr. Morgan our session's over, you can go. God, I need a drink now." She left in an irked huff. Once she had gone he stood calmly, allowing a satisfied smirk to linger as he returned to the lounge.

This small triumph was quickly replaced by a returning awareness of just how alone he was here. Normally he would recount such a tale to Abe, who would roll his eyes and comment on his poor social skills, but Abe wasn't here. And far too soon Abe would be gone like Abigail, leaving him alone once more with no one to turn to. He felt as forsaken now he had in Bedlam, Jo having taken on the role of Nora as betrayer of trust. Seeking comfort, he picked up Jane Eyre and turned to Abigail's photo. She had always trusted so well, countering his engrained paranoia; she had been the light of the world in his eyes, the light that reminded him that the world was still full of joy and wonder.

His lightening thoughts were interrupted by a tap on his shoulder, looking up he found Greg who had come from across the room. He looked for a second at the photo that had so absorbed Henry's attention, then pointed at the book mouthing 'What?'.

Henry closed it to show the title embossed on the front cover. "Jane Eyre. Have you ever read it?"

Greg shook his head.

"Do you like to read?"

He nodded, his face lighting up. At that moment the surprisingly calm conversation between Bonaparte and Lord Admiral Nelson suddenly exploded. Shouting, the pair threw themselves at each other in a hostility of fists. Greg's reaction was immediate and entirely unexpected. Clapping his hands over his ears and shutting his eyes tightly the young man crumpled under the nearest table, where he sat rocking and whimpering in between soundlessly mouthed 'no's. the combatants were separated by two large orderlies with a great deal of flung insults, in the case of Napoleon in surprisingly fluent French. Entering right behind them, Ruth went to where Greg was huddled. The shouts of the overly-patriotic men disappeared as the door closed behind their exits.

"Greg honey. Greg." Ruth called gently, kneeling down to reach him, he tentatively lowered his hands. "It's alright, they're gone. Everything's okay, it's over." She reassured, he opened his eyes and leaned toward her, she took him into her comforting embrace. A few minutes went by then she led Greg back through the hall door to his and Henry's room. When she returned, she approached where Henry sat reading. "Henry, I spoke with Anne." Henry would've known where this was going even without the disappointed motherly tone she was employing. "Those therapy sessions are meant to help you, she can't help if you don't say anything. Please talk during your next session."

Henry nodded obediently. As she began turning away to return to her post he spoke up. "Ruth." Her attention returned to the unusual patient. "Greg. What's his condition?"

She sighed softly and sat down in the chair next to him. "He has post-traumatic stress due to a childhood experience. Violence and fighting set him off, like just then. He's been here for five years now, since he was eighteen. Before that he was in a children's home from the time he was taken from his parents, at eight due to abusive conditions at home. His file says he hasn't spoken a single word since then, they think his speechlessness is stress induced."

Henry nodded his understanding, not sure what to say in response. "And what does my file say?"

"I don't know, I haven't looked at it yet." Then she stood up and walked away. But she didn't return to her desk behind the wall of glass, she instead stood in the center of the room and made an announcement. "Okay everyone it's time we all go to our rooms and get ready for bed, lights out is in an hour." Announcement made she began guiding some of the less grounded patients to the door leading to the hall.

When he passed her on his own way out of the lounge, he paused a moment. "Could I ask a favor of you?"

"Yes."

"If you could not lock the door? I wake early and will simply come out to this room."

"I think I can do that. As long as you don't try of escape in the night."

"Thank you." He resumed his walk to his room, comforted in the knowledge that the morning to come would not be a repeat of today's.

In the room he found Greg seated on his bed, occupied with the end of a book. Henry noticed the wall shelves, dotting the area around the young man's bed, that were filled with books.

"How are you?" In response Greg waved a hand nonchalantly in his direction, which Henry took to mean that he was fine. After a minute Greg closed the book and scanned the shelves, deciding which to reread. "Greg," the young man's attention gained Henry continued where he had been interrupted earlier, "would you like to read this?" Henry took a moment to remove Abigail's picture then held the copy of Jane Eyre out in offering.

With a mouthed 'thanks' Greg accepted it then, having sat down back on his bed, pointed at Henry questioningly and motioned in the general direction of a shelf. Henry took this as an offering in return of reading material.

getting up he looked over the titles lined up on the shelves. "You have quite the collection, and very good taste. Austen, Fitzgerald, Verne, Hugo, Forester… Eclectic. You've read them all?" Greg nodded, from where he sat with his new book in hand. Henry noticed the book that Greg had just finished. He picked it up and looked at the title as remembering dawned on him. "Casino Royale, my son read these books."

'Son?' was Greg's surprised and soundless question that Henry nearly missed.

"Yes…" Whatever he may have been about to say was stopped by a thought regarding his young roommate. His curiosity was raised and he knew exactly how to find the answer. "Do you have a flashlight?" From a bedside drawer Greg extracted a small hand flashlight and gave it to the older man. "I'm going to look at your throat." He was given a wary look. "It's alright I'm a doctor, I swear. Could you open your mouth?" Greg did so and Henry proceeded to inspect the throat by the light of the flashlight. There he found what he had suspected and dreaded, though the damage was more extensive than he had thought. The impromptu examination finished Greg was allowed to close his mouth. He gave the doctor a curious look of expectation but Henry did not explain his findings. As he turned back to his bed, having returned the flashlight, Henry as a father felt an anger that had risen before during a few heartbreaking cases that had come through his had answers and much to talk about but all that would have to wait until the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hopefully this chapter's length makes up for the delay. And I will continue to not own anything.**

 **Here's a nice semi-eventful lead in chapter for all of you. As always reviews are appreciated. Enjoy.**

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Awakening the following morning, Henry washed and dressed into a set of fresh clothes. He stood before the door collecting the nerve to test it and the composure to withstand its being locked. Taking in a deep breath he turned the knob, it opened easily. He let out a soft laugh of relief as he walked through the door with a false but comforting sense of freedom. Making his way down the empty hall to the convalescence room, he made himself comfortable in a chair. He enjoyed the silence, and prefered this room to the memories inspired by prolonged residence in the grey halls and rooms.

Ruth saw from her desk as he entered the lounge and settled into an armchair. He was a curious man, she didn't quite know what to make of him. There didn't seem to be anything obvious or life-impairing, aside from some unresolved issues with locked doors, wrong with him. She was tempted to to look at the file to find out, something about it had always seemed an invasion of privacy especially in his case. In order to keep herself from doing just that she figured she might simply go and talk with the man.

"Ahh, Ruth." He said, noticing her approach. "I'd been meaning to talk to you. It's about Greg." She sat down in a nearby chair. Resting his elbows on his knees he leaned forward. "Earlier you said that he doesn't talk. Then yesterday when I asked you said he'd hadn't spoken since his being taken into custody; the implication was that he was scared speechless, to use the vernacular. In my medical opinion-." She opened her mouth to speak but he addressed what she was about to say anyway. "I am of course a medical examiner and do not have a licence to practice medicine, and even I did it would have been revoked at the very least temporarily at my entrance here; but I was at one time a physician. In my medical opinion it's not that he doesn't talk, it's that he can't. I found that his vocal cords had been torn, the damage was extensive. It coincides with something with jagged edges, or perhaps thorns, being forced down his throat, I can only assume by one of his parents."

"My God, the poor boy!" She brought a hand to her mouth, in horror at the thought of Greg's childhood suffering.

"It's awful to think of, that a parent could do that to their own child." Henry had seen the work of abusive parents on the living and the dead and it never ceased to anger him, after becoming a father he couldn't imagine how people were capable of it. They sat in silence for a few long moments, taking in this information. "If you could pass this on, their doctors will have to confirm it of course, but it's not a symptom of his PTSD."

"Yeah. I'll tell Dr. Jacobson." She stood back up. "I have to do the morning call. Thank you for doing this for Greg."

"I didn't do anything."

"You took an interest, that's enough."

Less than an hour later, some of the patients began slowly filing into the Greg entered he came over Henry and handed him the book he had shown interest in the night before. "Thank you, Greg." Greg tapped on the cover, over where the title 'Casino Royale' was written in large colorful print. Henry opened the cover and found that Abigail's photo had been placed there. He smiled at the young man's gesture. "Thank you."

Greg took a seat nearby and continued reading Jane Eyre; Henry turned to the first page and began reading, perhaps he would find out what Abe had so enjoyed about them.

In an alley three people surrounded a body. "Finally, a murder. I was beginning to forget what it felt like to work." Hanson said looking down at the disemboweled man on the pavement.

"So Lucas what do we have?" Jo asked the former assistant ME, who crouched examining the body. The newly and unhappily promoted young man did not respond, but continued to inspect the victim. "Lucas?" She asked again expectantly. Once again he ignored her.

"Lucas." Hanson called.

"Yes, Detective Hanson?"

"Mind telling us what happened to the victim?"

"Of course. This man bled to death, obviously. The cut in his abdomen was caused by a blade slashed twice in a X." Lucas explained, acting out the likely motion of the killer. "The blade didn't penetrate very far, so I would say it's a short blade maybe like a paring knife. But I'll know for sure after the autopsy."

"Time of death?" Jo asked.

"When did he die?" Hanson repeated when Lucas didn't answer her.

"Right, yeah.. usually that comes first. Sorry. Umm… rigor mortis has begun and affected the face and neck muscles so three hours ago.

"Ok. Thanks, Lucas. The van's here and you can take the body back to the morgue."

"I should stay, you know, make sure I didn't miss anything."

"You did good, kid."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Henry'd be real proud of you." Lucas gave the older man a sad and grateful smile.

"Thanks Lucas." Jo offered to the ME as he accompanied the body to the van. He responded only with a glare and silence. When Lucas had departed she turned to Hanson, disheartened. "Everyone hates me don't they?"

"Not everyone." She gave him a doubtful look. "I don't, Lieu hasn't displayed any opinion yet. Of course Lucas is mad at you, you sent his boss and greatest idol to the looney-bin. And now he has the responsibility of Henry's job and is just trying to fit into his shoes. The uncertainties of his role model being crazy probably aren't helping. So I'd say he has good reason, the poor kid."

"You're so comforting." She replied with crabby sarcasm. "Come on let's go."

At the morgue Lucas faced his first solo murder autopsy with a definite feeling of inadequacy. His hand shook slightly holding the scalpel. Henry's leather tool kit rested closed nearby, as a sense of familiarity, but he hadn't been able to use them himself. Likewise Lucas had set up his office desk, as new chief medical examiner, on a extra autopsy table, unable to move Henry's stuff out of the office and replace it with his own. With a steadying breath he braced himself and made the first incision.

After the autopsy and the completed report was delivered to Detective Hanson, Lucas took his lunch break. He was running late on his return; as he ran into the morgue he half expected some comment regarding his 'comic books' from a disappointed Henry, but none came. The young man was suddenly struck by how much he missed his eccentric boss. Looking through the glass walls into the untouched office he decided that the few remaining bodies could wait alittle longer. Lucas went downtown to Bellevue with a purpose which disintegrated to a feeling that he shouldn't have come when he entered the large building and faced the receptionist. There was no turning back now, despite his worry that Henry might not want to see him. "Hi."

"Hello. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to visit Henry Morgan."

"Psych-ward, Third floor."

Exiting the elevator onto the third floor he found another reception desk. "I'm here to visit-"

"Hold on." The man at the desk interrupted, he got up from his seat and opened a nearby door. "We've got another visitor, Ruth." Then turning back to Lucas he pointed at the woman coming in behind him. "Tell her who you're here for."

"Come on in, dear." The woman, the friendliest employee Lucas had yet come across here, said as she ushered him into the access hall. "Who are you visiting?"

"Henry Morgan."

"Are you a friend of his?" She asked, it struck her that he didn't seem to have many.

"I'm not sure, actually. I was his assistant at the OCME."

"I'm sure he'll be happy to see you." She assured opening the door to a large room occupied by a number of people. "He's over here." She guided Lucas over to a chair. Lightly placing a hand on Henry's shoulder to get his attention she introduced him. "Henry, you have another visitor. You must be popular."

Henry looked confused as he turned further around to see who it could possible be. "Lucas?"

"Hi Hen- uhh… Dr. Morgan." Lucas stammered in greeting, as he came around to Henry's front.

"Lucas you can call me Henry." He assured, straightening and placing his book aside.

"Really?" Lucas asked growing excited by this outright permission to use the man's first name.

Henry nodded fondly. "Has Dr. Washington taken over the OCME?"

"No. I'm currently chief medical examiner."

"Lucas, congratulations! I'm sure you're doing wonderfully."

Lucas bowed his head to hide the blush he felt rising. "Thanks." This vote of confidence meant more to the young man than he could describe. "How are you, I mean are you ok?"

"Yes, I'm quite alright. It's not nearly so bad here as the rumors say."

"Henry… why are you here?"Lucas tentatively asked the question that had been nagging at him since he had watched as Henry was dragged away from the morgue.

Henry hadn't expected the question, though he probably should have, and didn't have a satisfactory answer. "I suppose the after-effects of unforeseen events, and some ill-timed misplaced trust."

It wasn't exactly the comforting definitive answer he'd wanted but it was enough. "I should be getting back."

"Yes, you're in charge now, and there's nobody more deserving of the position."

Lucas smiled gratefully at the man he still very much considered his boss."Bye."

"Good bye." Henry watched Lucas leave.

The hours passed and as according to plan, he managed another day of saving his medication. He knew that soon he would be called into his next therapy session, he therefore knew what was coming when Ruth next approached him. "Anne's ready for you. Remember what we discussed, no not talking." He nodded his consent. Then walked down the hall to the room he had been led to the day prior.

Entering he noted the presence of two books by Ivan Pavlov on her desk. So to divert the conversation he began, immediately upon taking his seat, reciting from memory 'Conditioned Reflexes and Psychiatry - Lectures on Conditioned Reflexes' by Pavlov. For the entire hour long therapy session he continued without stop in his quoting, not allowing her to ask a single question. By the end of the session Anne's expression had gone from confusion, to awe, to annoyance, and ended somewhere between fury and boredom.

Later that evening, as Ruth watched over the lounge from her desk, she was addressed by Dr. Jacobson. "That information about Greg Masterson, you got it from Henry Morgan?"

"Yes, Doctor. It was correct wasn't it?"

"Yes it was. How is he doing, Morgan that is?"

"Very much as he was when he arrived: calm, solitary, and quiet. Greg has become rather attached to him, actually."

"No change at all? The medication should be taking some effect by now. Have you read the man's file yet, Ruth?" He was aware of, though he didn't quite understand, her reluctance to read the patients' files.

"No, not yet. Is there some particular reason I should?"

"It's an interesting case, certainly."

"I'll make myself familiar with it when I need to."

Shaking his head at the kindly, and in as many ways untraditional as traditional, nurse's habits he made his departure. "Good night, then."

The room was nearly empty but for the few evening stragglers, so she took a bit of a walk around the lounge before she sent them to their rooms. She noticed that of the two reading, one was not reading but gazing at the inside cover of the book. She came over, drawn by curiosity, behind Henry and looking over his shoulder saw a picture of a smiling young woman. "Who is she?"

Henry jumped in surprise at the sound of her voice behind him. "My late wife."

Immediately she felt rather guilty for intruding. "She was beautiful."

"Yes, she was." He agreed, smiling reminiscently.

"How did she die?"

"In a car accident." This was the easiest answer he could give, the it was less involved and certainly less painful to recall than the whole truth of Abigail's death.

"My sympathies." She checked the time on her wristwatch and went to make her evening announcement, not hearing his quiet thanks.


	8. Chapter 8

**And now the chapter where the something happens. Please tell me what you think.**

 **Oh, and I still don't own anything.**

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Morning broke and began much as the one before it. As he sat he once again was joined by Ruth. "Can I join you?"

"Absolutely." She sat in the chair she had used on their last morning conversation. "I never thanked you for keeping the door open."

"No thanks needed, I said I would and I did. Beside, it's my job to make sure you all are comfortable."

"Is that what this is, humoring me with the sensation of normality?"

"No."

"If this is social, then, do you happen to have any tea? I've been three days without a drop and I believe I'm entering withdrawal." He said jokingly.

"I don't, sorry. Maybe tomorrow. So you're from England, I assume?"

"I grew up in London."

"And your wife, was she English too?"

"Yes. We met while traveling the continent." It was a mild but apt and reasonable way of saying that they'd met during World War Two.

"How long were you married?"

"For-four years."

She took his stumble as the effects of emotion, rather than the slip of the tongue that it was. "I'm sorry, it must be hard to talk about."

"It's quite alright. But that's enough about me. What about you? You're very kind, and very good at your job."

"I started out in the pediatric ward at a hospital, but after a while I couldn't take watching such little children be so sick and get worse. So I got this line of work, it's a similar job description."

"Are you married?"

"Yes, for almost forty years now. We've got three grandchildren to spoil."

"How old are they?"

"Nine, five, and three."

"They're wonderful at that age." Henry mused, negligently not watching his words.

"Did you and your wife have children?"

"No, we didn't." He was thankful for her wording of the question, for something made him hate to lie to this woman who had been so kind to him.

"You're a strange man, Henry. I overheard your friend's question yesterday. Why are you here?"

"You have my file. I was dragged from my place of work and brought here." He said as his way of saying he didn't know. He had an idea of course, a strong one, but what his condition had been deemed he was unsure of.

"It's a beautiful morning." She said looking out the window. "I think it's time we share it with everyone else." She stood up and, as she did everyday, went to wake up everyone.

The day passed duly, with little excitement. That is until after lunch when the queue at the medication window formed. Ruth was surprised when Dr. Jacobson entered her office to watch over the proceedings. "Doctor Jacobson, this is unexpected."

"Just following up on an inkling, Ruth. That's all." The doctor watched closely as each patient approached and departed from the window, waiting for one man in particular to take his turn. Henry stepped up to the counter and accepted his little cup of medication, medication that he placed in his mouth and held there faking a swallow until he could turn away. The watchful doctor saw him subtly dispose of the pills. "Gotcha! I really do hate the clever ones." Jacobson began leaving the room to address the two orderlies on hand.

"What are you talking about?" Ruth asked, standing herself.

"Dr. Morgan has not been taking his medication. I began to suspect when you said he had remained just as he was when he arrived." Then motioning to the orderlies he continued into the lounge behind them. "Let's see what we can do about that."

Henry looked up at the sound of footsteps moving toward him. He saw two of the orderlies, followed by the psychiatrist from his first day, as they came ever closer. The large men in white moved to flank him on both sides and the doctor faced him. "Dr. Morgan, please come with us." Henry conceded, a feeling of foreboding rested in his stomach as he followed the doctor into the hall. "The jig is up." He announced once the door was shut and the four people were alone.

"I'm afraid I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." Henry soon regretted the cheek in his response.

"Oh I think you do. I suppose you planned on using those to kill yourself, what you thought would be a handy escape route. Or do you just not want to take it? We can arrange other methods." From his pocket, Jacobson extracted a syringe of clear liquid.

"What's in that?" Henry asked fearfully, looking warily at the hypodermic.

"The same that's in the pills you should've been taking, but a little more potent. Now the question is are you going to cooperate and be good like everyone else?"

Henry set his jaw, closing his mouth defiantly. He stared the man down, determined to stand his ground. But when Jacobson came closer, unsheathing the needle from its plastic cover, Henry tried to back away. His instinctive retreat was stopped by the arms of the men still on either side of him. He fought against their holds, his current predicament far too reminiscent of times past for him to remain calm. Panic took over, fueling his futile resistance.

His struggles weakened when he felt a sharp prick in his neck. His vision began to go dark around the edges and he felt very light headed. Through his darkening window of vision he saw the heart racing sight of Dr. Jacobson readying the needle for his arm. He felt another pinch of a needle before everything around him went dark.

Ruth heard shuffling outside her door, as it escalated and slowed, when she opened the door to see what had happened she found Dr. Jacobson standing near an unconscious Henry held nearly upright by the two orderlies. "Take him to his room." She directed the men holding the limp man. "What was that?" She asked accusingly of the doctor still holding a syringe.

"He resisted medication, by injection since he refused oral, so we had him sedated."

"Was that whole thing really necessary?"

"It's not your place to question me Ruth, you're a nurse. I think it's time you take a look at that man's file."

She walked back into her office, fuming from the short confrontation with the doctor. She'd been given a lot of grief by the almighty doctors, but it never ceases to frustrate her. Sitting down she saw the newest patient on her desk, that of Henry Morgan. Still mad at the doctor she opened it anyway. What she read there, paranoid and delusional schizophrenia who thought he was immortal, made so little sense with what she knew of the man.

The next day, much later than usual for Henry, Ruth sat next to his bed. He was mumbling, a sign that the sedative-induced sleep was coming to an end. She had prepared some tea in her office and sat in wait with a mug full for him. Gradually his eyes opened and he reentered the world.

"Is that tea I smell?" He asked, somewhat groggily, slowly sitting up.

"Yeah." She said, handing the warm cup to him.

He accepted it. Taking a sip he took in the smell of the steam. It was then that the two noticed that his hand was shaking. She took the cup back to keep it from spilling. His hand had stopped shaking but Henry stared at it with a frightened look in his eyes.

"I have to give you this." She said holding out another syringe for him to see. He recoiled slightly, the little he could from his position. "It's on Dr. Jacobson's orders. There's no sedative, just the medication."

He tentatively offered his arm to her. She gave him a reassuring smile, before beginning to tie a strip of rubber. "He fancies that he's the ruler and this is his domain, doesn't he?"

She gave an affirmative noise, the plastic needle cap between her teeth.

"I hate doctor's like that, don't you?"


	9. Chapter 9

**I own nothing.**

 **Thank you every one who has continued reading. This is short but it was very hard to write. Please tell me what you think, I'll need the motivation to write the next chapter.**

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It had been four days since Abe had visited Henry, and the fact that the man was still in that place worried him. He'd fully expected that Henry would have escaped by now as he had said, but unnervingly he hadn't. Entering as he had before he arrived on the third floor. Ruth was called again to lead him to the lounge.

When the door opened the sound of Bach came from the piano. Looking at who was playing his heart dropped. The playing was good, but every so often there was sour note or two. In all his years of life Abe had never heard his father mess up while playing the piano. Henry simply didn't make mistakes when he played, after all he'd been playing the old masters for more than two hundred years.

He crossed the room to stand next to Henry, yet unnoticed. When he placed a hand on the man's shoulder. Henry jumped at the touch, causing a crashing sound of several conflicting notes. "Henry?"

"Hello Abraham." Henry said with audible relief, as though he might have been expecting someone else.

"Hey." Abe greeted in reply, leaning forward to reach the keys he played a small snippet of Chopin.

"So I didn't fail completely?" Henry asked, smiling.

"Not completely."

"Just mostly."

"Yeah." He affirmed. Then he tried to approach the worrying occurrence gently."Your Bach's a little rusty, huh?"

Henry let out a humorless puff of ironic laughter. "If only it were that." He raised his violently shaking hands from his lap. "I seem to have developed a problem with involuntary movement. What troubles me is that I have no idea why." The shaking ceased as he clenched his hands into fists. He was visibly frightened and his next word left little doubt of it. "Abe." His quiet plea for reassurance was a crack in his weakening facade of strength.

"It's alright, Henry." Abe said, taking a seat next to Henry on the piano bench. "We'll get you out of here. Didn't you have a plan?"

"I did. I'm afraid it went rather arye. I haven't been able think up another." This in itself was odd for Henry, he could think himself out of any situation.

"Oh. Well, you keep thinking and I'll see what I can come up with."

"How have you been?"

"Good. The place seems kinda empty, and I'm being buried in leftover servings. Oh, that kid, um… Lucas, dropped by the shop. He misses you. Doesn't have many friends and never stops talking, reminds me of you actually." Henry had grown silent and his gaze wandered to back to the white keys, as soon as Lucas was brought up. "Henry, you ok?"

His eyes refocused on Abe. "Yes."

"Brought you this, figured you'd have finished the last one by now." He held out another book to Henry.

Henry accepted it and ran a hand along the marbled cover. "Yeats." It was the book of poetry that had been recovered from Abigail's things. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'll be back tomorrow." Abe patted Henry's shoulder before standing up. Coming into the hallway, he was stopped.

"That's the most he's talked all day." Ruth told him.

"Really?" This seemed highly unlikely to Abe, who had just sat and talked with him, mostly because Henry always talked whether he said anything or not.

"He's been withdrawn. I was getting used to talking with him in the mornings, but this morning he didn't engage."

"That shaking, when that start?"

"Yesterday."

"Has anything changed?" Abe was aware that he was talking like he'd heard Henry do back when he was still practicing, except now he was talking about Henry, and it made him slightly uncomfortable.

"We put him on medication three days ago."

"Can you take him off it?" To him it seemed the explanation of Henry's state.

"I can't. It's not my call." Abe looked down, frustrated with the complexities of medical hierarchy. He was pretty sure that this nurse was an ally, but he doubted anyone else would be.

"I'll keep an eye on him, I promise."

Abe nodded. "Thank you, Nurse-"

"Call me Ruth, please."

"I'm Abe." They shook hands. "It's nice to meet you."

"And you."

"I'll be coming tomorrow to see him." He then continued down the hall and returned to the shop.


	10. Chapter 10

**I own nothing and shall continue the same.**

 **This chapter was a killer to write but I finished it finally. Thank you all so much for the reviews, follows, and favs. I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter.**

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The dry spell had ended, much to the relief of the precinct and the stress of a solitary young ME. This stress, that of an ever-waiting list of deceased to attend to, did not stop him from pursuing another path.

"Detective Hanson, please. Couldn't I, just this once?" Lucas asked when he came up to deliver the autopsy report on the latest case. "I can assist, I've been working on my observation skills. Give me chance."

"Lucas." Hanson said attempting the stern, somewhat annoyed tone that Henry employed to stop the younger man from talking. It apparently worked, as Lucas' mouth shut and he awaited Hanson's next words with a glimmer of hope. "You're a good ME and that's what we need right now."

"But Henry-"

"Lucas, you're not Henry, don't try to be." Hanson's paternal tone toward the uncertain man surprised even him. "Be Dr. Lucas Wahl, chief medical examiner." Lucas swallowed hard the rising nervousness at the title that he still didn't feel worthy of. "Keep up the good work." He added, calling after Lucas as he returned to the elevator.

"How is he?"

"Why don't you him yourself? Oh, he's still giving you the silent treatment."

"Yeah. Do you think he'll ever talk to me again?"

"Eventually. It's not like he stop talking so eventually he'll slip up and start talking to you again. But be careful what you wish for, he may never stop."

Jo laughed lightly. "This the autopsy results?" She asked, picking up the folder Lucas had brought.

"Yeah. It's good, Henry taught him well. But I hope the kid gets settled in soon, I don't know how much longer I can keep up the encouragement. I'm running out material."

"Think of it as practice. I hear the teenage years are the worst, all that doubt and trying to find their identity."

Hanson groaned, bringing a hand his forehead to ward off the headache at the very thought. "I'll send them to boarding school."

Jo laughed out loud. "Come on, spare yourself. We've got a case."

"You know that's exactly it."

"What is?"

"Lucas, it like dealing with a teenager, without the anger."

"Speak for yourself on the last part." She pointed out.

"Fair enough. But, God, how did Henry deal with it?"

"Must be a British thing." Jo offered. It was Hanson's turn to laugh as they sat down to ponder the case in search of a lead.

Abe made his way to Bellevue, hoping desperately that this day would be better than the last. Not pausing at the reception desk he went down the hall. Where he did pause was at the door he had found to be that of Ruth's office. When he knocked she opened it and came out into the hall. "How's Henry?" She just shook her head sadly. "What do you mean?" He asked, the worry he had held back with hope breaking through. Rushing to open the door Abe look out at the room, and soon found where Henry was curled into a chair.

"He's been like that all day, and seeming altogether withdrawn and out of it." Ruth explained from behind him.

Abe walked toward him until he stood in front of the chair. "Hey Henry."

"Abe." Henry greeted, responding to his son's voice. "Did your mother come with you?" He looked expectantly around Abe.

Abe's heart broke. Dragging a nearby chair closer he sat down. "Pops, Abigail died thirty years ago, we had the funeral last week. Remember?" He whispered.

Henry's face fell. "Yes, yes of course. How stupid of me." A moment passed and his gaze grew distant and watery. Tremors shook his body, Abe wasn't sure whether they were related to the prior day's shaking or were caused by the sobs that were about to come. Abe took a comforting hold on Henry's upper arms. "Her- bones on- on the t-table. Abe…" The floodgates opened and Henry fell into sobs.

"It's okay." Abe pulled the uncharacteristically emotionally broken man who had raised him into a consoling embrace. He'd never seen Henry like this, as though he had no control over his emotions.

"Abe, don't leave me." Henry pleaded.

"I'm here. I'm right here." Abe reassured, still holding Henry. But he knew what Henry meant and it was not something he had much choice over. This was worse than when Abigail had disappeared. Henry had always been so strong and this seemed like he'd lost him entirely, like it was no longer Henry but someone far different. It took several minutes for Henry to return to some level of peace. "We need to get you out of here. I'm serious. I'm going to talk to Jo and-"

"No! Abraham, don't."

"But-"

"No." Henry asserted, in a very final, very fatherly tone.

"I'll see what I can do, then." He might be able to enlist Ruth's help.

"And I shall too." Henry looked around the room, eyes glazing over. "This room reminds me of a sanitarium. I keep thinking that James might walk through that door, cured by the miracles of modern medicine." Abe's heart sank a little farther.

"Henry, I'll see you tomorrow." Abe stood up, and walked with a purpose back to Ruth's door. She met him there. "Look at him and tell me that's not caused by the medication. Take him off it."

"I-"

"I know, you can't because you're a nurse. My mom was a nurse and she would never have taken that flak from any doctor. You saw him before the medication, does he seem normal to you now?"

"No. I agree, he's worse." She gave a short answer in agreement with the obviously upset man.

"Can I take him out of here?"

"If you were family, you could." How he wished that he could admit to his relation in that moment. They had disconnected their familial identities long ago, when it no longer made sense, and that decision was now coming back to haunt them.

"Thanks." He said thanklessly, walking out of the building. Reaching the car he slammed the door and hurriedly whipped away the tears of frustration, frustration at the entire situation, that had escaped.

Ruth returned to her office. On her desk waited the syringe of Henry's medication, waiting for the imminent dose to be given. With a heavy sigh of aggravation she grabbed the syringe and walked into Dr. Jacobson's office. "I'm not doing it." She announced, dropping it onto his desk.

"What are you talking about Ruth?"

"I'm not giving Henry Morgan his dose."

"If you won't then there are other nurses who will."

"It's making him worse!"

"Is that your medical or psychological opinion?" She had no answer, her jaw clenched in vexation. "Now I believe you have patients to look after. I'll find someone to administer the medication to our troublesome doctor." On her way out she paused a moment to slam the door to her satisfaction.


	11. Chapter 11

**I as ever own nothing.**

 **Sorry about how long this took to get out but there were some things I had to get done before school started. So in this chapter Abe comes to the rescue, and Jo becomes addicted to Abe's cooking, along with some other stuff of course. This caused me some trouble while writing it, so I'm not sure if it turned out how I'd planned. Thanks everyone for the reviews, follows, and favs. Please review, your thoughts mean so much.**

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Abe sat in the livingroom of the apartment. He had tried to run the store for a few hours but to little effectiveness. So he'd sat down with a comforting plate of reheated lasagna, made according to Abigail's recipe, and attempted to find so way to get Henry out of that horrid place. With a fork-full of lasagna halfway to his mouth he caught sight of something on the table. Finishing the bite he looked warily for a moment at the picture that had laid there unmoved for nearly a week, before picking up the object which had started this whole fiasco.

The only plan he had thus far, or could come up with was through the woman responsible, the one who had come with this photo in hand asking for answers she didn't believe. Abe decided on that plan, however it meant expressly disobeying Henry's wishes and talking to Jo.

A knock came to Jo's door, it was late and she hadn't been expecting anyone, but she opened the door anyway. There on her stoop stood Abe. "Oh. Hi, Abe. Would you like to come in?" She asked, her guilt rising uncomfortably at Abe's presence.

"We need to talk."

"Is this about Henry?"

"Yes."

"Abe, listen-"

"Have you eaten yet?" He interrupted her weak reasoning, with the abrupt and seemingly out of place question.

"No."

"Good, you're having dinner at the shop. Come on."

"Oh-Ok." Jo had been rather taken aback by the man's seriousness and conviction. She followed him to his car for a very silent car ride to Abe's Antiques. He held the door open for her to enter, with Henry-like manners.

"Let's head on up, I'll heat something up for you." Abe instructed, motioning toward the stairs to the living quarters. As she continued into the sitting room while he paused in the kitchen to put another piece of lasagna into the oven. Coming out with the plate, he set it down in front of her and sat down nearby. In his absence she had picked up the photo, which she quickly put back down when he entered.

"So what's this about?"

"Henry's not crazy. What he said is true."

"You mean you believe him?"

"Yeah, Jo. I have no choice but to believe him."

Jo took a bite of the lasagna, before responding. "This is really good." She said her mouth full and would-be response forgotten.

"Thanks, it's my mom's recipe."

"So why do you have to believe him, because he's like family?"

"No, well he is, but that's not why. I believe because it's been a part of my entire life."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to tell you a story. At the end of World War Two, there was an English medical unit handling the liberation of the camps. A young nurse found a baby that had been rescued from Auschwitz. She brought the infant to the first doctor she saw. It was love at first sight. The baby was miraculously healthy, but was taken to a nearby hospital for care. The nurse and doctor continued to check up on the baby. Eventually, when the baby would soon be sent to an orphanage, she suggested that the pair fall in love and adopt him. They did just that, the boy was named Abraham, and the new family moved to New York. That's where this picture was taken." Abe picked up the photo from the table and held it so she could see. "I'm sure you've guessed already that I was the baby. The couple that adopted me was Henry and Abigail Morgan."

"But you're mom's name was Sylvia Blake."

"When she left Pops she used an alias, taken from their two favorite poets. But you're missing the point."

"That Henry was your father?"

"Yes."

"That would make him… but he's like thirty-five."

"What did Henry tell you?"

"That he was born in the 1779."

"It's true." Jo let out a breath of stunned laughter. "I get it, you need proof. I did too. There's a box of documents and pictures behind your chair. I'll go heat up some of the leftovers I've got, and leave you to it for a while. Then I'm open to questions when we eat."

Leaving, he took the family photo with him. It was unique as far as Morgan family photos went, in that it actually contained the entire family. He wondered who had taken the photo. Generally photos were of one or the other of his parents, sometimes with him. Henry, ever reluctant to leave evidence of himself, was usually the one behind the camera. There were of course exceptions to every rule and Abigail had managed to get some over the years. Abe had snuck a few pictures of his own, mostly of his parents throughout the years.

Once Abe left the room Jo stood up and got the box. Setting up on the floor she started with the stack of pictures on the top. They spanned from black and white to the fading color of the 60's. The all were of Henry, accompanied by Abe or Abigail. Abigail matured through the pictures, which seemed to be taken rather surreptitiously. The difference in the pair's physical ages widening, but the love with which they looked at each other never diminished. The baby Abe grew older in the company of his father, who didn't. Henry grinning as he steadied a waddling toddler taking his first steps, sitting at a piano with the young boy, and on through the years. She found herself smiling at the adorable, if strange, family.

Further down in the box were more, much older photos. Some of them weren't even photographs, just sketches or paintings. But undoubtedly it was Henry, even the slight inconsistencies of artists weren't enough for it to be insanely strong genes. The only thing that changed throughout the images was the styles of hair, mostly regarding that on the face. Unlike with the last stack, her smile was now one of amusement.

Leaving the photos on the side she moved on to the documents. The newest looking of them turned out to be a marriage license, for the 1955 marriage of Henry and Abigail Morgan. Right below it was an adoption form from 1945, stating as Abe had said that the baby Abraham be given to the custody of Henry and Abigail Morgan. Next on the pile of papers was a folder, containing the medical corps military records of Dr. Henry Morgan. Under the thick folder was a thin sheet of newsprint. The cutout Times article was about a doctor who had saved a boy from a burning building, a doctor named Henry Morgan. The even older paper below it proved to be another certificate of marriage, dated 1811, documenting the marriage of Henry and Nora Morgan. The final document was a page taken from a church baptism record, it contained the names of infants baptised at St. James Church in September of 1779. Near the bottom of the page was the name of Henry Morgan, baptised the 26th, presented by Richard and Georgina Morgan.

The removal of these documents revealed two final objects. One was a skilled drawing of a couple. The man was obviously Henry, he looked nearly the same age as he did in all the others except that he lacked the mark of worry; the woman, who she assumed was Nora, looked happy. The other object was a smaller sketch of a family portrait, which when complete would have been rather grand. She saw a resemblance in the faces of the parents with the familiar features of Henry, the young boy standing in front of his father and beside his seated mother, must have been Henry, aged no older than twelve.

Jo put everything back into the box, then sat back down in the chair. She quite understand how all that she'd just seen could be possible. The whole thing was too complicated if it were merely a joke or the humoring of a delusion. That left that it was evidence of an impossible truth. And still she didn't fully understand.

"So any questions?" Abe asked coming in with a tray full of home cooked food. He set it down on the coffee table.

"Yeah, lots." She answered picking up a plate. Abe smiled. "So… the not aging thing. What's that about?"

"Henry hasn't aged since his first death."

"First death? Like lots others?" Her mouth was already filled again by the wonderful food, as she asked.

"Yeah, uncountable times. The first time he died was in 1814. Henry was a doctor who had passage on a ship headed to the West Indies. The ship was a slave ship owned by his recently deceased father, it was his intention as the staunch abolitionist he was to release the slaves on board. He'd stolen the key when he was called to check on a potentially ill slave. The captain didn't want to risk that the man was sick, even though he wasn't. He refused to listen to Henry, and Henry refused to let him throw the man overboard. So the captain shot him, and the crew threw his body overboard. We recently found out that the slaves did escape because the key fell out of Henry's hand as he was dragged past the cell. After he died, Henry awoke, naked, somewhere in the Atlantic ocean. Ever since, everytime he dies he wakes up in the nearest large body of water, completely naked."

"The the ship wasn't by any chance the Empress of Africa?"

"Yeah it was."

"That explains so much. The watch, his watch, it was his."

"Yep. Abigail found it and gave it back to him."

"In the pictures you look like such a happy family. What was being raised by Henry like?"

"We were. It was interesting, definitely. My childhood was normal, we moved around alot, but normal. But not what you think, he wasn't always like he is now. When I was growing up he was great. Henry was a wonderful father. He was happy then, like no sadness in the world could touch him. That was all 'cause of Mom, she was good for him, let him relax, not worry about what came next. He lived in the moment. When mom left it killed him, or would've if he could."

"That case, your mother's… Henry acted so strangely about it. I didn't understand why, I didn't get why an old case got him so riled up, who she was to him."

"She was his wife, that's why."

"Oh God!" She gasped, a hand coming to her mouth and a realization coming at last. "The autopsy, when he found her bones. How awful that must've been for him? I don't know he managed it."

"He's very good at controlling his emotions."

"Why didn't he tell me then?"

"Personally, now I'd say his reticence on telling you was correct, though I thought you were trustworthy at the time. Henry has major trust issues, and with good reason."

"And that is?" She asked meekly.

"After his first death it took Henry a year to get back to England and his wife."

"Nora." Jo supplied, now starting her fourth plate of Abe's cooking that she was now quite addicted to.

"Yeah, Nora." He affirmed, speaking her name with great distaste. "After a few months relishing in their reunion, she persisted in asking for answers about what happened on the ship. He'd been declared lost at sea before his return, and he'd returned a different man. She asked about his scar, the one on his chest left from the captain's bullet." Jo remembered seeing the scar, and wondering herself about it, 'a story for another time' Henry had said. "When he told her what had happened she didn't believe him. So he tried to prove it to her, he was going to slit his wrist but she stopped him. She promised that she believed him, to his great relief. The next day he was taken from their home in a straight-jacket, off to Bedlam by his wife's hand. He never got over Nora's betrayal.

A great weight of guilty struck Jo at the how story's conclusion matched her own actions. "I'm so sorry."

"You should be." The good natured, if unusually serious, Abe was gone. The accusatory look of obvious anger he gave her told that she was in no way forgiven. "You should see him in that place. I've never seen him like that, not even after Abigail left. He's broken, I never thought I'd see my father like that again. When I visited today he asked whether Abigail had come with me. And it's because of you." Tears of regret and guilt and a hundred other emotions she couldn't name fell down Jo's cheeks. "He has to get out of there. But I can't do it alone."

Jo was silent for a moment, considering a plan. "I know how."


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you everyone for sticking with this. And wow thank you for the reviews, almost 40, and the views, 4,600! As always I own nothing.**

 **Not sure how I feel about how this chapter turned out. Hope you enjoy it, though. Thoughts are welcome and much appreciated.**

 **School's starting very soon so no promises about the next chapter coming tomorrow.**

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Henry awoke the next morning. Before his very eyes the walls of cinder-block transformed to those of damp cold stone. When he tried to move he was stopped, not by any physical force but by a mere sound. To his eyes and ears he was bound in rattling chains. He sat up, knowing well the boundaries of his restraint. Eventually his present fright was increased when the grating of metal bars came to his ears, as they opened and someone entered. Henry recoiled into the wall, wishing to escape any new torture, when addressed. "No, no…"

"Mike, I need your help." Jo said coming into the precinct to find Hanson standing near the door.

"With what?"

"Getting Henry back."

Hanson's eyebrows rose in interest. "A change of heart? Or of head?"

"Head."

"I don't want to know." Anything that could change Jo's mind was far too long a story for so early in the morning.

"But will you help?" She asked desperately of the only person she trusted to help and not ask too many questions.

"What do I have to do?"

"Figure out someway we can get him out, with as few questions as possible."

"I'll see what I can do. I am starting to miss the guy." It took a few hours but he finally came up with something that might work. "Jo, I think I've found what you're looking for."

"Whatcha got?"

"A no questions asked police order."

"Let me see." Jo took the form from Hanson. "'It is by order of the New York Police Department that the subject, Henry Morgan, is to be released into the custody of the 11th precinct for the purpose of witness protection, as the ward of Detective Jo Martinez and Detective Michael Hanson.' That's perfect, thank you."

"So what's all this about exactly?"

"Don't ask don't tell, Hanson."

"Remember what you told me frustrated you about Henry? That's exactly what you're doing now."

"I was wrong. Okay? I was wrong about Henry."

"And the secrecy?" Her mouth twitched uncomfortably. "Come on, if I'm in on this don't you think I should know what I'm in on?"

"I can't say. Let's just say that there are certain reasons it can't be made a big deal of. I just everything to go back to normal."

"Well it won't be, even once he's out. His license was revoked when he went in."

"Can we un-revoke it?"

"Ain't it funny how I knew you'd ask?" He said presenting another document to her, it was a reinstatement request form. "I'll send it in and it should come through in a few days."

"You're great, Mike. You know that?"

"Tell that to my wife."

"I would but first I have to call Abe."

"What for?"

"He's coming with us to get Henry, Abe's the closest he's got to family."

"Ok." Hanson relented. They were to be off immediately, as soon as everything was arranged.

"Thank you Jo." Abe said from the back seat of the police car as it pulled up to Bellevue.

"Least I could do."

"Well, we're here." The three made their way, unimpeded due to the presentation of two badges, to the third floor. There they were quickly attended to by Ruth. "We're here to retrieve Henry Morgan." Hanson said in an official manner. "I have a release to give the doctor in charge."

Ruth's eyes twinkled with a relieved joy at the news. "He is down the hall, third door on the left."

"Thank you." Hanson said, making his way towards the door. Opening it he found Dr. Jacobson at his desk.

"May I help you?"

"Yes." Hanson handed the order over to him. Jacobson took and read it.

"Henry Morgan. I'm afraid I can not permit his release due to his current condition."

Something about the man Hanson didn't like, so it was with great pleasure that he responded. "I'm afraid you have no choice in it, see that is a police order."

"Witness protection?"

"Yes, I can't tell you more."

"Very well, take him."

Meanwhile, Abe and Jo were brought to Henry's room by Ruth who then went to collect Henry's things. The pair stood a moment before entering the room. Abe was wary, he had never come to find Henry still in his room, Jo sensed Abe's hesitation and stayed with him. After a momentary pause, Abe pushed open the door and entered.

"Henry." He called to the figure, huddled with his back to the door.

At the call Henry flinched as though hit, looking so small and broken. "No. No more." He pleaded in a weak voice.

Bringing his hand to his mouth Abe turned away from the sight and left the room. He gave a horrified, heartbroken and accusatory look to Jo.

Whatever silent words followed between them, they were interrupted by the return of Ruth. "Here are his things." She handed the box to Abe, who from it removed Henry's pocket-watch.

"Thank you." Jo provided for the preoccupied older man.

Holding tight to the watch Abe reentered the room. He came to sit next to Henry on the bed. "Henry."

This time Abe's call brought a more aware reaction from the man. "Abraham. Why are you here?"

"We're getting you out. We're going home."

"Home?"

"Yeah." He confirmed. "I have something for you."

Henry accepted the watch, holding onto it as though it were an anchor to some small parcel of reality.

"Let's go, alright?" Abe stood, expecting that Henry would follow, but he didn't. "Come on." He encouraged.

Henry held out his wrists pathetically. "I can't, Abe."

Abe, understanding what memory must have engulfed Henry, took hold of his father's wrists, his touch proving that the shackles imagined there were indeed not. "It's okay, you can come, you're free." He led Henry out of the room. Ruth snuck past them to retrieve the last few of Henry's things, which she added to the box on her exit.

Out of the room and in the hallway, Henry showed some signs of improved clarity, well sort of. "Henry, are you alright?" Jo asked sheepishly, it was rather a stupid question at the time.

"Nor-"

"No, Henry, that's Jo." Abe stopped and corrected him.

It was then that Hanson met up with them. "God. You sure we should be doing this? He doesn't look too good."

"He just needs to get off the medication and get it out of his system." Abe assured. "You two take him down to the car I'll be right behind you. And don't pay attention to anything he says." Abe handed Henry over to them and they proceeded to follow the older man's orders, despite not knowing quite why. They had just gotten Henry into the back seat when Abe caught up with them, carrying the box.

During the ride Henry had rambled for much of the trip, to Hanson's great confusion.

Hanson let the two men off at the shop and Jo joined them. They went into the shop, where Henry looked like he was about to go into memory overload, looking all around at the antiques any number of which he had at one time owned. Pushing forward the trio made it upstairs and into Henry's room where he relaxed enough that his true level of exhaustion became evident. Sitting Henry down on his bed, Abe walked back into the hall with Jo and produced from his pocket a syringe.

"What's that?" Jo asked.

"A sedative."

"Why, he looks like he's going to fall asleep right now."

"Because it's easiest if he can sleep it off. Because I can't deal with seeing him like this any longer, and it's easiest for me."

Jo nodded her understanding.

Abe returned to sit next to Henry. "Hey Pops, tell me about when you purposed to mom." He asked. As Henry launched into the story, Abe took advantage of his distraction to administer the substance. Without having finished his story Henry fell into his exhaustion and the effects of the sedative. Abe stayed long enough to tuck him in, before leaving to dispose of the needle.

Jo behind followed him with a question. "Wouldn't be fine again if he just… you know?"

"If you want to kill him go 'head. But believe it or not, even knowing he'll come back, I do not enjoy killing my dad. This way he'll sleep it off."

"I'll stay." Jo said.


	13. Chapter 13

I'm so sorry everyone that this took so long. This was harder than I thought to write and I just decided to split the final chapter up. So here it is, the beginning of the end.

Thank you all you wonderful reviewers for all the wonderfully encouraging reviews.

As always, your thoughts are enormously appreciated.

I don't own anything.

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And she did, she stayed at the shop, rarely leaving Henry's bedside. She watched his chest evenly rise and fall, he looked more peaceful than she'd ever seen the care-worn man. Abe too spent most of the following hours nearby, when he wasn't busying himself with filling the air with the delicious smell of food. She got the feeling that his presence was more to make sure she was alright, though his concern for Henry's recovery showed despite his attempts to hide it. He managed to pull her away for one short, but by no means small, meal. It was well after midnight when Abe went to bed, offering her the prepared couch in the hope that she might actually use it.

Morning light poured into the room, illuminating the two occupants of the room. It wasn't long until the pair, one of whom still slept soundly, was joined by another. Abe carried two cups of coffee as he entered, sitting down in the remaining chair before offering Jo her cup.

"I don't suppose you slept at all?"

"Not really. Couldn't sleep."

"If I hadn't been raised right, I would say that you look awful."

"I thank you for your well mannered discretion, then. Can I have the coffee?"

"Yeah. When that wears off, do try to sleep. Huh?"

She nodded her agreement and accepted the warm cup. After a few long sips she looked much more awake though only a little less tired.

"Why don't you get cleaned up? I'll watch him."

"Yeah, okay." Jo got up and headed down the hall to the bathroom. While she was gone Henry began to stir, the sedative was wearing off but it was still strong enough to keep him asleep. His head moved slightly a few times, then settled back into stillness.

Jo returned appearing a lot fresher. "Better?"

"Yes, you look much better, kid. I think he'll be waking up soon."

"Has he started waking up?" She asked, coming over to retake her seat.

"Moved a little a minute ago."

Henry moved again, more urgently and seeming almost troubled. Jo's hand went to his head gently brushing the hair back from his face. The motion transformed into a simple intimate caressing of his temple. Unconsciously he leaned into the welcome touch, pulling him toward awareness. "Abigail." He breathed, a thin smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Jo's hand froze, and her gaze flickered toward Abe with concern.

She didn't have to say anything for Abe to know that Jo was worried Henry was still being affected by the medication. "It's alright. The last loving gentle touch he's gotten from a woman was probably mom, he's just dreaming."

Jo offered a sad thankful smile in response and retracted her hand, allowing it to graze down his cheek and along his heavily stubbled jaw.

Abe made to get up from his seat. "I'll just step out a second-" He sensed a need to leave the two alone.

"No, stay. I'll be a minute." She got up and exited the room, a little too quickly, leaving the two men to their silence.

Henry's eyelids flickered for a moment before slowly opening, he gazed around the room as though he hadn't expected to find himself there. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Pops."

"Good morning Abe. How did I get here?" His voice was raspy from a parched throat.

"We got you out."

"We?"

"You don't remember? I'll get you a glass of water." Abe got up and went to the kitchen, expecting to pass Jo but she wasn't anywhere to be seen.

When he returned Henry was still lying down. Henry propped himself up slightly to take a drink then handed the glass back to Abe. "Just put it on the nightstand, I'm still a bit drowsy." His voice was back to its smooth accented tones.

"Understandable. You've had a rough couple days." Henry gave him a questioning look. "I'll explain when you're more awake."

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No, not yet." His reply was answered with a disappointed fatherly scolding look. "I'll go do that. Fix you something too for later, you must be hungry."

With a grateful nod Henry settled back into the bed. From the doorway Abe heard Henry's quite call. "Abraham."

Somehow the man's tone made him feel wary, like he was about to be chided. "Hmm?" He asked pausing and turning to face the bed.

"Please tell me you didn't read those books before you were fifteen."

"What books?"

"James Bond."

"Oh." He couldn't help a small smile at the thought of his father worrying about at what age his mind had been corrupted by the less than subtle innuendo of the books. "No worries, I was 17. I started reading them after President Kennedy said he read them." He continued to exit before double taking and pausing again. "The thing is, in order to know to worry, you would've had to read one of them. Henry, did you read a James Bond book?" Abe asked gleefully.

"I may have read one." Abe smiled very widely, with a great amount of triumph. "Go eat, Abe."

"Yes, sir."

Jo's minute had taken about five. She had settled into a corner of the shop next to a dresser. Her weight against a drawer pushed it the last bit closed, that it was still slightly open suggested that it had been closed hastily. Curiosity getting the better of her she turned around and opened it. She found two large albums resting within. They were filled with photos, that were obviously cherished, of Abigail and Abe. She knew that these were kept close for the same reason that she couldn't transfer the pictures on her phone to the computer. They were evidence of the good times, counterweight for the pain of the bad. Jo was very confused by what she had felt upstairs, only a few weeks ago she had begun to understand why she hadn't gone to Paris, suddenly her feelings were more complicated.

The smell of breakfast cooking floated down to her. Putting everything away she followed it to find Abe in the kitchen. "Hey, kid, figured you'd still be here. He's awake, a little tired though."

"Can I talk to him?"

"Don't see why not. He probably won't be sleeping, he should be but… I made some breakfast for you too, do you want it now?"

"After, thanks." She entered Henry's room to find him still lying down, coming closer she saw that his eyes were open. "Hi, Henry." Responding only with a glare he turned his head away from her and his body followed. Faced with his ignoring back she continued. "I'm so sorry, Henry. Really. What I did was awful. I know you must hate me, and think that I'm just like Nora. But I believe now. Abe explained everything to me. I know you've been hurt and that I hurt you. I can't imagine all you've been through... You poor man." She said, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

"Get out." The request came quietly, forlorn, with an edge of restrained emotion.

"What?" Jo asked, partially from shock and partially unsure that she'd heard correctly.

"Get out!" He half turned toward her, a distraught fury in his voice that scared her. Following his demands she fled the room and would've gone all the way home if Abe hasn't stopped her before reaching the stairs.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey everyone.**

 **Wow, 50 follows and even more reviews! You guys are great, thanks all!**

 **This fanfic just does not want to end, so the conclusion is coming next chapter. For some reason this chapter turned out to be mostly about Abe. And if you're like Jo, and didn't quite get why Henry reacted as he did, the explanation is here. Hope you all enjoy. I would love to hear what you think.**

 **Oh and I still don't own anything.**

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Abe had heard Henry's near bellow and come out of the kitchen in time to catch Jo. "Whoa. Jo, don't. Stay, have breakfast." She nodded, noticing that her throat was too tight to answer at the moment. "What happened?" He asked sitting her down in the kitchen and placing a full plate in front of her.

"I don't know, he just flipped."

"What did you say to him right before?"

"I said 'you poor man'."

"Oh." He sat down with his own plate.

"What?"

"That would be why. In the first place Henry's not one for pity. Secondly, well you see, those are like sacred words to him, and coming from you..." Her brow furrowed, not understanding. "The war had just ended and we were still living in London. Henry was stabbed during a fist-fight. He bled out in Abigail's arms. When his body disappeared she was confused and went home. Henry was going to leave but he came back to the house, through the window, to say goodbye to me. Mom caught him right before he left the way he had come. She didn't ask questions, she just came up to him and said 'you poor man' like she understood everything. I think it's the only time he's felt wholly accepted."

"I guess, compared to that, I messed up pretty bad."

"Yeah, you certainly did. But I'll talk to him, maybe he'll come around."

"Thank you."

"Get one thing straight, I'm not doing this for you. You sent my old man to the looney bin, for God's sake. I'm doing this for Henry and because I believe that you care about him." A slight blush came to her cheeks. "This is your second chance, if you mess this up there's nothing I can or will do." He picked up another plate and walked to Henry's room with a cup each of coffee and tea.

Entering he found Henry sitting up on the edge of the bed. "You frightened her." Abe informed, handing off the breakfast and tea.

"Did I?" Henry responded with a distinct lack of concern. "Did you tell her to say that?"

"No. I only just told her about it a minute ago. It's good to have you back, by the way."

Henry nodded silently for a moment, a motion which turned to shaking. "I'm so sorry, Abe."

"For what?"

"That you had to see me like that."

"You remember?"

"Enough. Enough to know that it must have been very hard on you."

"Well it's the only downside to always having my dad, I have to deal with all your baggage. You look wretched."

"Thank you, Abe, for your blunt honesty." Henry replied, an amused smile coming to his face accompanied by a small chuckle. "I was about to get cleaned up when you came in with this lovely breakfast. However, I doubt that its delivery was your sole purpose in coming."

"Never could fool you. There's a certain lady sitting outside who just wants to be forgiven and understand you, and she doesn't quite understand why you won't even talk to her."

Henry sighed, he should've guessed as much. "When I look at Jo, all I can think of is Nora. And everything Jo said, that she was sorry and that she believed now. It made me think- Nora returned."

"Huh?" Abe asked, lost somewhere in the transition of topics.

"1865, I was working in London, and I got my stupid face in the paper. Nora recognized it and came to the hospital claiming to be my wife. She told me that she knew it was all true now and she was sorry for not believing me; she wanted to share this 'miracle', my 'blessing', with the world. Coming back the next day, she pulled out a pistol with the intention of shooting me. There was a nurse, Anne, she stepped in front of me as Nora pulled the trigger. Anne was killed instantly."

"You know Jo would never do that."

"I certainly never thought Nora capable of it."

"It seems to me that you're overlooking one thing, Jo isn't Nora."

"I have yet to see a difference. They are both women whom I- trusted; who asked for answers, which I gave; and who had me locked up."

"Jo is the reason we got you as soon as we did. When we got you home she sat right here, next to you, the entire time you were asleep." Henry said nothing but brought a tentative hand to his temple, where Jo had earlier stroked. "Please, Henry, give her a chance. You had trust in her once, I think she's earned it back."

"Why are you so eager that I forgive and renew my trust in her?"

"Because I won't be here forever."

"Abe, you know-"

"You don't like to talk about it, I know. But we need to talk about it."

"Must we?"

"Yes. I worry. After Abigail left you still had me to pull you out. Who will be there for you when I'm gone? You haven't been on your own for 70 years. You need someone you trust, Henry. Why not let that be Jo? She knows your secret and cares about you very much. Personally I think there's a lot to be discovered between you two."

"Abraham!" Henry scolded, the insinuation not eluding him.

"Hey, call 'em as I see 'em." Abe defended, his hands raised in joking surrender. Then he turned sober. "But seriously, Pops, you know it's gonna happen. I just don't want you to be alone when it does."

Henry looked at his son. He truly did hate such discussions. He was painfully aware of Abe's mortality. Henry'd lost so many people but no pain would be greater than the loss of his son. "But I'll only lose them as well. I can't take losing any more people I love."

"So you'll just lock yourself away from the world, and end up like Adam?" This earned him a disapproving glare. "Just because losing hurts doesn't mean you stop loving. You and I both know that being alone is the hardest to go through. So please, Henry, give Jo a chance."

"Henry was silent for a moment, Slowly, nearly imperceptibly he nodded. "Alright." He assented. "May I have a few minutes?"

"You got it." Abe made his triumphant way out as Henry stood from the bed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello everyone!**

 **I lied again, this isn't the last chapter, but I promise the next one will be (seriously this time, I've hired Angel to help put this undying story to rest).**

 **Sorry this took so long, writer's block and school got in the way. But it's the weekend and I've got the final chapter half written as we speak, so it will be posted ASAP.**

 **I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed, favorited, or followed this story. Would love to know what you think, as always.**

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Henry came out of his room showered and dressed in his usual three-piece suit.

"Going for the formal look, are you?" Abe commented teasingly, handing off a fresh cup of tea in return for the breakfast plate.

"I know it's not as though I'm going anywhere, shan't be for a while I suspect, but I needed some normality." Henry gave his son an appraising look. "As I recall, I forbade you from going to Jo for help."

"Yeah well, sorry about that. But I couldn't find any other way."

"It could've turned out very badly for you."

"It didn't though."

"That isn't the point, Abe. But I thank you for doing it, despite your disobeying me." He looked around the room over the rim of his teacup. "Is Jo still around?"

"On the couch." Henry followed this direction to find the woman lying fast asleep. "The coffee wore off."

"Hi Henry."

"Hello Detective."

"So you're talking to me again?"

"I was made to see reason." Henry answered, glancing momentarily at Abe, then he took a deep preparatory breath. "I must apologize for my recent actions, and I wholeheartedly thank you for your part in my liberation."

"Least I could do." She paused looking him over. "You do love the layers, don't you?"

"Habit, I suppose." Jo had a feeling it was more than just habit but left that rather personal subject alone. "I don't know how much Abe told you. I'm sure he explained my reluctance to trust people."

"Nora."

"Yes. And though it was a long time ago, what she did still… stings. Recent events have brought a lot of that pain back. And I fear that I overreacted toward you."

"No, you didn't. What I said and did, it was unforgivable. But if you could bring yourself to…"

"I was getting that." He said gently.

"Oh."

"Yeah kid, don't beat yourself up. To most people what you did was reasonable and what you said was a downright sensitive." Abe commented, coming to sit nearby.

"As I was going to say. I was recently convinced that you've done for me since is deserving of my renewed trust. Forgiveness, I'm afraid, may be a time in coming. I regretfully do not forgive easily." Henry paused for a long moment, looking at his lap and trying to collect himself for his next words. "You will have to bear with me from here, I haven't discussed this with anyone but Abe for decades. And now I suppose I'm up for any questions you may have about what Abe didn't cover."

"Any questions?" She asked, needing confirmation of his offer.

"Any." He confirmed, nervously hoping she would have the decency to avoid certain subjects.

"Our first case, did you go off the rooftop?"

"Yes. I was also a passenger on the first subway car when it crashed."

"But there's no way you could've survived either and you… How does this immortality thing work?"

"I did die on both of those occasions. When I die, my body disappears and I come back in the nearest body of water, entirely naked."

"Your skinny dipping and indecency charges." She summised and he nodded in affirmation. "Have you died any other times on our cases?"

"Do you remember the taxi brought up from the river?"

"Your watch." She connected, remembering how strangely he'd acted at the scene. "And those scratch marks, they were yours?"

"Yes well, drowning's definitely not my favorite way to go."

"That scar, would now be the time for that story?"

"I think you've already heard it." He confirmed this with a look to Abe as he undid the top buttons of his shirt to show the ragged scar in question. "It's where I was shot aboard the Empress."

"It looks awful."

"Bullets then caused a bit more damage than they do now."

"How old are you, Henry, exactly?"

"I'll be 236 this September." She laughed in awed amusement, a sound which he heard with great relief bore no mark of humoring or disbelief. "Wow! It's one thing to say you were born in 1779 and something else entirely to put a number on it. You're old!"

"You have no idea." Henry responded wearily, as though in that moment he felt every one of those years.

"No kidding, either. Henry here is a walking history book."

"Something you took full advantage of as a student."

Abe shrugged. "What can I say? I was a resourceful kid."

"Could you tell me about your and Abigail's honeymoon?" She felt a little strange asking such a question, but what she had been told was so exotic and now it was in a completely different time.

"You want me to tell you about our honeymoon?" Henry asked, rather befuddled, even as a slight blush came to his cheeks.

"Not those details. You went from Hungary to Turkey on the Orient Express, surely something other than that happened."

"Yeah Pops, tell Jo about how you got hugged by a king."

"What?" Jo breathed out in surprise, excitedly anticipating the tale to follow.

"Abigail and I had just gotten into our cabin, we hadn't even begun to unpack, when there was a knocking at our door. Behind it was a very large and imposing man, who asked if I was a doctor then demanded we come a patient. When we got there we found a young boy, about ten years old, suffering from acute appendicitis. We set up an operation table in one of the cars, and right before we began the guard informed me that the boy was 'the son of the king'. At the first incision the train lurched violently."

"That explains the shape of the scar. And your defensiveness when Lucas commented on it." He nodded in acknowledgement. "Ok, continue." Jo prompted when the pause lengthened.

"When we returned to our quarters we were once again interrupted by a knock at the door. This time as I opened the door, expecting to see the guard, I was instead met with a sudden embrace from a man of more average size. He identified himself as the king and thanked us for saving the life of his son. When I expected that he would leave, he informed us that he wished to share dinner with us, a string of footmen proceeded to carry in a very large traditional Urkeshian meal.

"After dinner Abigail fell asleep and his majesty and I fell into genial conversation. We talked about our children." He gave a small affectionate smile in Abe's direction. "The young prince was being taken out of the country, to America as it turned out, but the king would return to face the fate decided for him by the people. He gave me his family's ring, to give to Abe. Well, there it is, the most unique part of a very scenic honeymoon."

"So where were you?" She asked Abe. "You were what, 10?"

"Oh no. You shouldn't have gotten him started on that."

"I was dumped off with my grandparents, at their farm in Oxfordshire. Left with people I barely knew, hundreds of miles away from home, while my parents were off galavanting around the world."

"We thought you would enjoy it. Beside, Abe, you're over exaggerating." Henry said in a tone that stated the end of this conversation.

"Knowing the father-son order, explains so much about you two." She stated, smiling and shaking her head amusedly. After a moment she looked back up at Henry, her mouth in an unconscious pout. "I really should get to the precinct at some point today. I'll stop by tomorrow morning." She said standing up and making her way to the stairs. "Bye."

"See ya, kid."

"Have a nice day, Detective."

They watched her descend and a minute later heard the bells chiming at the front door. With Jo gone, Abe got up and began walking toward the kitchen, pausing behind Henry's chair. "Good job, Pops. Knew you could do it. I think this deserves a treat. How's blueberry scones sound?"

"That sounds wonderful, thank you Abraham."


	16. Chapter 16

**So here's the finale. All my thanks for reviews, favorites, and follows** **(especially supercl529, for the loyal reviewing);** **not to mention sticking with this, you've been great.**

 **This chapter is kinda random, but cute. Thoughts are appreciated. Hope you enjoy.**

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Early the next morning Jo pulled up infront of the antique shop. A stack of mail lay before the door, she picked it up before knocking. While waiting she flipped through the envelopes. Coming across two and knowing what they were about, she separated them from the rest. When she looked up she saw Henry walking through the numerous antiques toward her, no jacket and his vest unbuttoned.

"Good morning, Detective."

"Morning, Henry. Aren't you dressed for work yet?"

He looked at her rather confused. "I'm not going to work, seeing as I haven't a job. I don't have a valid license. Rememb-"

"Oh really?" She said holding out the two envelopes for him.

His brow furrowed in bewilderment, he accepted them from her hand. The creases smoothed as he read the reinstatement letters, one from some medical board regarding his license and the other from the OCME giving him back his job. Finished, he looked back at her with his usual crooked grin. "I'll be right with you, Detective." He made to run in.

"Here's your mail." She hurriedly handed the pile off to him before he ran up to the living quarters. Henry returned mere moments later fully dressed, scarf and all. "Looks like the old Henry's back."

"I most certainly am. Would you be so kind as to-"

"Get in the car Henry." She replied, cutting short his highly mannered request.

"Thank you, by the way." He said once the car was underway.

"I don't know what you mean." Jo claimed, not looking at him.

"Yes you do."

"Yeah, I do." She admitted. "But you should thank Hanson; he's the one who put it through, quite the rush job too."

They arrived at the precinct and cautiously entered, Henry trying to attract as little attention as possible. The last time he had been in this hall his presence had not been nearly a subtle one. His inconspicuousness was not to be however.

"Henry!" Lucas called as he spotted his returning idol., running to give him a crushing hug. "You're back! Are you back? Please tell me you're back."

"Yes, I'm back." At this news Lucas tightened his embrace. "Lucas." Henry managed, sounding somewhat suffocated.

"Sorry." He apologized letting go of Henry and stepping back. "glad you're back."

"Glad to be so. I've heard you've been doing very well in my absence. I therefore see no reason for a demotion to your former position."

"I'm okay with my old job. I like my old job." Lucas was quick to reply, feeling very overworked and unprepared for do much responsibility.

"If that's how you feel, perhaps we can arrange for some greater responsibilities to be added then."

"Cool, thanks Henry."

Henry noticed Jo beginning to head toward the elevator. "I'll be back down in a moment, Lucas." He assured, then followed the detective upstairs to hoomicide. Standing near Jo's desk, as he usually did, waited Hanson.

"Morning Jo."

"And you. Look who's back with us." She said tilting her head to indicate Henry.

"Hey, Doc! You're looking better than when I last saw you." He greeted, discreetly mentioning the circumstances of their last seeing each other.

"Yes. The rest did me a great deal of good."

"Time to rest will do that."

"Thank you for allowing it to be a short time."

"No problem, Doc. We've missed you up here." Jo left the two a moment to get some coffee, once she was out of earshot Hanson spoke again more quietly. "So what was this whole thing about?"

"A buildup of stresses and personal issues caused some problems, which are now resolved." Henry summarized, as vaguely as ever.

"Come on Doc, you know you can't keep all that in. That's what causes… well whatever just happened."

"It shan't happen again, I assure you. I've... found a confidant." Henry said taking a quick glance toward the returning Jo, who answered the look with a quick smile.

"You guys talking about me?" She asked as she rejoined the pair, who were both looking at her oddly.

"No." Hanson answered innocently.

"Why in heavens would you think that, Detective?"

Jo just looked between the two suspiciously passive faces a moment then shrugged, shaking her head in defeat. "I chose insanity." She restated, remembering the decision she'd made at Henry's last return.


End file.
